


Metal Hog

by SepZet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternative Sexuality, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 02:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16150892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SepZet/pseuds/SepZet
Summary: Roadhog and Junkrat go to rob a convention and take a hostage. The hostage is a little bit more than they can both handle.





	Metal Hog

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Featuring my sahira yet again. She's everywhere.
> 
> You could have read this a month ago, and decided what a wrote as it was! Find out how here:  
> http://sepzet.tumblr.com/post/177508049572/sepzet-is-creating-writing-and-fanfiction

He was lucky the pay was fantastic. Damn lucky.

Roadhog stared tiredly at the wiry little fuck, fingers drumming slowly on his thigh. Watching that little maniac write out a plan was like watching a puppy trying to turn the page of a textbook. It pawed and tried and whined, but good god, nothing ever went right. It certainly didn’t help that he was writing it in crayon.

“There. See? Perfect!” Those wild eyes turned his way, lips parted in a feral grin of excitement. “Foolproof.”

Not really. There was plenty of things that could go wrong, but he wasn’t one to correct the little creep. Money made him quiet, so he just gave him a thumbs up. He’d make it work, no matter what. He was good at that.

The plan was to break in to a convention of some kind that was supposedly full of good medical supplies, get all the good drugs and money, and get out. It was unlikely that there would be any guards, but there would most likely be some. And Junkrat hadn’t planned any of that.

But that was what he was for. To fill in the gaps of planning, to make sure his employer didn’t die out of damn eagerness.

“Tomorrow! Tomorrow we get some good drugs!” Like that was some great joke, Junkrat cackled with glee, flopping back in the van they were crammed into. His little head bounced off of the metal wall, but he seemed ignorant to whatever kind of pain it might have caused.

Maybe they could steal some vitamins for the skinny little shit. He could use some vitamins.

“Well.” He remained folded in half, looking almost glumly at him. “Can we get a hotel room?”

“No,” Roadhog growled, folding his hands over his gut.

“No? Why no? I want a bed!”

And a shower, hopefully. “After the plan. Then we’ll get one.”

“Why not now?”

Because they didn’t want to give the locals any kind of warning that they were there. They weren’t exactly internationally notorious, but they were still pretty easy to identify. No need to risk it. So they’d do the attack, then hurry out of town and get a little hotel room to rest up and give Junkrat some time to come down from his adrenaline high. Perfect plan.

Not really, but it would have to do. Not like they were going to have anything better any time soon.

It took just about a half an hour for Junkrat to fall asleep, awkwardly curled up and crammed against Hog’s side. It took a long time for Hog to doze off, but he didn’t exactly sleep heavily. Couldn’t count on the wiry little shit to keep watch on his own. But still, there were no issues in the night. A bit of luck. Which meant it would run out soon enough.

Making it to the convention was fine. It worked well enough. Nice big building, but with no places for cover when the police showed up. Which meant they would have to be fast and efficient.

Hog glanced down at the jittering ball of excitement beside him.

So everything would go wrong. They’d need a backup plan. He’d figure it out.

He stayed on Junkrat’s heels when they finally crawled out of the beat-up old van, heading straight for the front doors. He kept his hook and gun in hand, pushing the intimidating presence to backup the pure insanity that his employer offered.

“No body move or I’ll blow everything up!” Junkrat shrieked with absolute glee the moment they burst through the doors, dynamite in hand, lighter in the other. Quite frankly, Hog didn’t trust him to not just blow it up anyways, but they could hope to get a bit further than that, he supposed.

Either way, his warning and the intended effect of making those nearby gasp in terror, trying to tuck down behind their little plastic tables full of various drugs.

Herbal remedies, judging from the look of it. Homeopathic stuff, nothing really valuable to most buyers. Who knew if half of it even worked the way it was supposed to? Either way, there was still money to be had, so they could at least go with that.

Hog had to remind Junkrat or that, shaking the open bag beside the little shit’s head until he stopped staring at the fuse just waiting to be lit.

“Right! Money!” Junkrat cackled with glee, bounding forward to the closest table. “Give us all your cash!”

The elderly woman behind the table babbled something, opening her metal lockbox to hand over the money. Not much, but something. It would do.

From table to table they went, Junkrat taking the cash, and Hog occasionally pocketing something from the tables that seemed worth it. Which wasn’t much, but it was something.

Everything was going swimmingly, surprisingly, until they made it to one of the tables along the back. While everyone else had cowered and shrieked, the woman behind the table still sat in her chair, her legs crossed primly, her eyes narrowed up at them. Like all of what was happening was just an inconvenience that put her out immensely.

Junkrat shouted at her, something. Hog didn’t notice. He was too busy staring, feeling something cold creep up his spine at the sight of her. The countless chains, cuffs, bangles draped around her shoulders, wrists, even her brow. She was covered in gold, silver, bronze, copper, every kind of metal he could figure. That was one thing. But when paired with the scrawling text and sigils and alchemy circles tattooed into the flesh of her arms and hands, he remembered what it was like to be afraid.

A little.

“Well,” Junkrat sang, leaning over the table at her. “Lookit this rich little bug, eh? Now, who goes out into the world looking like that?”

“Witches,” Hog rumbled, catching her eye, treating him to that lovely glare of hers. “Metal ones.”

Her lips curled ever so slightly, something almost predatory in it when she uncrossed, then recrossed her legs, the movement making her skirt shift and reveal a more decorative tattoo on her thigh. Still she perched, still she glared. No fear.

Just as Junkrat started to say something idiotic, the distant wail of sirens made his jaw clamp back shut.

Cops. They had to move.

“Hostage!” Junkrat exclaimed so suddenly it made the big enforcer twitch, his fingers itching to grab at the little shit just as he lunged across the table, grabbing at the witch. “Come on then! You’ll make a fine hostage!”

Not a good idea. Bad idea. Very bad idea, but who was he to argue? He just took the bag of cash, hooking his arm around the witch’s middle and hauling her up at Junkrat’s insistence. She didn’t wiggle, didn’t fight. She just folded her arms over his, like she was being carried to a bus stop or something.

He hadn’t seen a metal witch in years. Certainly not one in one piece. Whoever she was, he didn’t like it. What could he do about it anyways?

Threats of explosions and death of hostages and civilians did their usual trick of keeping the cops back. Gave them just enough time and space to run off, surprisingly quick for their combined weight and lack of limbs, but they had gotten rather good at escaping after heists.

Various winding routes down alleys and across busy streets took them to their little stash. Grabbing up their things, they continued on, and for some reason, Junkrat still insisted on bringing the witch along. Junkrat wasn’t all that malicious, so why he wanted one girl in tow was lost on him.

Regardless, they made it to a small motel out on the edge of town. An automated sign in, thank goodness, allowing them to get a room with relative ease, cramming in to a tiny room with cash, weapons, and hostage in tow.

Hog went to one of the beds, carefully lowering the witch down onto the mattress. Wouldn’t do to piss her off unnecessarily. When she was settled, she flicked at her skirt, getting it back into place. Mildly ruffled. How inconvenient for her.

Junkrat did his usual bouncing off the walls, giggling happily. No point in wasting time. Hog just crammed himself into the bathroom, rather pleased to see the shower might hold most of his bulk. A good shower, and he could relax a bit before they moved on to the next heist in some other city. Nice.

With a metal witch in the other room. Bad news. They needed to turn her loose as soon as possible. The last one he met was in the wastes after the bomb. She was ragged, her hair falling out in chunks, but even with her missing hand, she had been strong enough. He’d seen her melt down husks of cars, the metal clinging together around her as she slaughtered a pack of raiders that had tried to take her conduits from her. Their gold, all their jewelry was far more important than decoration, more like suppressors on the strange metallic abilities that they bore. He’d seen what a witch was like when it was under control. He never wanted to see one without their conduits.

Okay, so maybe his shower lasted a long longer than it should have. It felt good. It had been far too long since he had access to hot water, and it wasn’t like he only had a little bit to wash. Half of his gut stuck out from the shower curtain when eh tried to wash, so it took a long to turning this way and that, getting a part wet, scrubbing it, rinsince it, then moving on to the next body part. Complicated. Long.

But he succeeded either way, emerging from the bathroom fresh and clean, mask on, towels tied together around his waist for modesty, his clothes in hand.

He didn’t entirely expect the wall of head he walked in to the other room. His shower had been hot. That had nothing on the absolute furnace that the bedroom area was.

Cursing softly, he searched over the room, trying to find Junkrat, something. Some kind of explanation for the heat. Maybe the little shit had turned up the thermostat, but he didn’t entirely believe that. No, he had an idea as to what caused it.

He found the source on the floor, tucked up beside one of the beds, shivering. The metal witch, her eyes wide open and blank as she stared at nothing. Sweat beaded on her brow, running in rivulets down her cheeks, her arms, everything, her clothes clinging to her flesh like she had been dumped in the pool.

Her conduits were gone. Every single one, nd her tattoos were starting to look a lot less like black ink and a lot more like burning red lines of lava.

Cursing under his breath, he turned away, looking wildly for the little shit. Thankfully, he didn’t have long to wait before the man in question waltz back in the front door.

“Where is it?”

“Eh?” Junkrat fumbled a bit, looking so honestly confused. “Where’s what?”

“Her jewelry! Where is it?”

“In the cash bag, of course. Thought I’d lighten our hostage of her valuables. She won’t be needing- Hey!”

Hog brushed past the little shit, fropping his clothes on the way as he lunged for the bag. He wasted no time rummaging through it, lurching back over to the witch. It’d been too long. Even with all of her sweat, no matter how soaked she was, her tattoos were starting to singe her clothing, embers starting to cling to her. She was burning up, literally. Not much time before she started to burn down the whole room. Dragging both her and the bag into the bathroom, he ripped the shower curtain down, tossing it aside. It gave him a clear space to dump her in the still wet bathtub, letting her flop bonelessly in the container. Yanking the zipper on the bag, he upended it on her. Bills, coins, and her jewelry all landed on her, clinking to her sweat and to thee water on the tub walls. But he didn’t have time to sit and stare. He turned and left the bedroom, thumping over to their stash.

“What are you doing?” Junkrat screeched, leaping onto Hog’s back. Little monkey. “That’s our cash!”

Not anymore. He couldn’t blame t he little shit for not knowing anything about witches, but couldn’t he take a moment to not steal? Just consider other alternatives?

There was a touch of regret as Hog pulled out his stash of gold coins from the bottom of the bag. Emergency finances for when Junkrat inevitably burned through all of their cash, but it was an emergency, regardless. Holding it tight to his chest, he lumbered back into the bathroom. And in the bag went, on top of the witch.

The coins sat on her arm for a second. Just a second, and then the coins melted, dripping down her skin to loop and drape on her in grand jewelry. Back to normal. The room was already starting to cool down.

Good. Hog reached back, grabbing the Rat off of his shoulders.

“Idiot,” he growled, turning and chucking Junkrat back out into the room, closing the bathroom door. The little fucker was not necessary. He had to patch up the situation before the witch decided to kill them just for taking her conduits for a little while.

It felt like an age, standing there in nothing but a towel, breathing heavily through his mask, staring at the crumpled form of a woman in a bathtub. When she started to move, he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Not out of the woods yet.

“Idiot,” the woman grumbled, sitting up in the tub, a visible shake in her hands. “Never seen a sahira before, eh?”

“No.” Maybe he had seen one before the bomb, but it had left his memory had some point. Probably. Who knew what he actually knew?

“Right.” Shoving her hair back, she peered up at him. Well, rather, her eyes seemed to drag up him, up his exposed legs, his towel, his round gut, to his mask. He wasn’t exactly the most welcoming presence. “Mako.”

He flinched. Probably visibly, as her brow lifted. Maybe she had seen his wanted posters, the watchlists. With a metal witch, it was more likely that she knew some other way.

“Mako. Hm.” She sighed, tucking her legs underneath her, shaking her arms out, making so many chains and bangles jingle and rattle. “Are you happy like this? With the running around with that guy?”

He shrugged. “It pays.”

“Right.” Her eyes trailed over him again. Slower. It was a different kind of look, one that made him question many things. “Towel’s gapping there a bit, stud.”

Oh.

Made him look at her a little differently. Like how her singed and partially burn clothing let him see a good amount of her cleavage. She was a pretty girl. Shorter than him. A bit chubby, but small. He liked small.

Bad idea. Doing anything with a metal witch was a very, very bad idea. They were dangerous, volatile little powerhouses that could easily cause plenty of damage before he did any kind of damage to her. But she was cute. And she was kind of looking at him a certain way. So things had to be done.

Turning away, he yanked open the bathroom door. Junkrat, of course, fell back, a guilty look on his face. Eavesdropping. Typical. Not his problem.

“Leave.”

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

“Get out.” Because whatever happened with him and the little witch lady, he didn’t need an audience of a hyperactive psychopath. “Get another room.”

He wasted no time waiting for Junkrat to argue any more than that. He just grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him over and shoving him out. Because frankly, it had been a very, very long time since he had been with a woman and she looked like she wanted him. Badly.

When he turned around, he was treated to the sight of her leaning in the bathroom doorway, her arms crossed under her breasts, that smirk on her lips. Pretty. Very pretty.

“Eager,” she sighed, flicking her hand at the bed. “Sit. We shall see what kind of handle I have on cocks, still.”

Cryptic, but he wasn’t one to argue. He did as she asked, lurching over to the bed. The damn thing creaked horribly, sagging under his weight, but it managed to hold. Not for long, though. Maybe it would last long enough.

Such confidence in her. She sauntered forward, brushing his hands aside, dropping to her knees. Tugging at his towels, she disrobed him without pause. Even the size of his cock didn’t phase her, her delicate hands cupping him.

“Brave of you,” she tsked, brushing her thumb over the ring through his cock. “Metal around a sahira muedania.”

It wasn’t like he was going to remove it. Especially since she still leaned forward, still started to pepper him with kisses, those soft lips making his skin come alive.

Until, well, her forehead bumped his belly.

“Hm. Bit of a problem there,” she sighed, pressing a hand to him, pushing more. Once he’d leaned back enough, she slid in more, fitting her lips around the head, her tongue laving over his piercing.

Cute. Very cute. Her soft hair fell about her face as she bobbed on him as best as she could, doing her best to take as much of him into her mouth as she could. Which really, it wasn’t much, but he did appreciate it. With her mouth, and her hands wrapped around him, he felt his cock filling with blood rather quickly.

It didn’t help it had been way too long. And it certainly didn’t help that there was a level of fear included with it. Metal witches were fantastic creatures, insanely powerful, and there was one on her knees before him, sucking on his cock. That was something special.

She drew back, smacking her lips like he was something tasty. “There we are. Now. How much do you know about my kind?”

“Enough,” he rumbled, shrugging.

“So you know about the seasons.”

“Vaguely.”

“So you know that we sometimes have dicks.”

“You have one?”

“Well, kind of.” She shrugged, standing up so she could pull her skirts aside. “I’m halfway between seasons. Got a bit of a clit-cock going on. You alright with that?”

She was right about that. Looked like she had about half of both, a small cock stiffening up right above the lips of her pussy. Cute. Very cute. He smiled as he looked at it, reaching out with one big hand to rub a fingertip under her cock.

“Oh,” she sighed, shuffling her feet apart a bit. “Yes. I see. Good.”

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he rumbled, hooking his hands around her waist.

“That sounds perfectly fine to me!” She squealed in delight when he stood, easily tossing her onto the bed where he had been sitting. Hitching her shirt up, she let her breasts slide out, shuffling her legs apart.

She was certainly ready for it. That was nice. He hummed happily, gripping her thighs to make sure she left enough space.

“I don’t-”

“Don’t need a condom with me, big boy,” she sighed, reaching down to stroke her cock. “Can’t have kids. Never could.”

“Diseases?”

“Have a hard time sticking in my blood. I’ll be fine.”

Well, alright then. Fair enough. Pressing his thumb to his cock, he guided it down, positioning himself just right. It would be a tight fit, that was for sure, but it didn’t seem to faze her.

With the slow slide within her, she keened loudly, arching back. Bit of a size queen, thank goodness. She took and she took, only begging for more with each additional bit. Not that he could fit all of his cock inside of her, but it was a good enough amount that he was really grateful.

Roadhog let out a pleased sigh, patting her belly fondly. A good hostage, it seemed, if she was so ready to take him.

When her foot started to kick at his arms, he figured it was time to start moving. Each thrust jostled her greatly on the bed, making it necessary to hold on to her to keep her from sliding too far away. Whatever. He was just happy to have something hot to fuck into.

And it was nice, really. His belly rested on her just right, rubbing on her cock with each thrust. She certainly seemed energetic about it enough, crying out loudly, gripping at the blankets underneath her.

Cute. So cute. A little hard not to get lost in it, in her. No no, he was fully into it, fully into making her scream and gasp and moan, his own labored breaths struggling out of his gas mask. She was so insanely tight and warm, so good.

It took no time for her to squeal as she came, her little cock twitching valiantly against his belly, like it was trying to spill, but nothing came. And her clenching down on him did nothing but push him closer and closer to the edge.

Just as he hit the peak, just as he came and choked out his own pleasured sounds, her expression cleared so suddenly it was downright terrifying. All bliss slipped away and she grinned, a feral sort of baring of her teeth as she surged up, and he tipped back.

His back slammed into the floor, her feet lighting nimbly on his belly as she outright stood on him, her legs spread wide. She was ignorant to the semen spilling against her calves.

“Mako Rutledge,” the witch hissed, spreading her arms wide, her tattoos flaring with light. “Don’t take hostages. Especially not sahira muedania.”

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

Fire lit on her fingertips, swirling around with too much light.

He could only watch as she flicked her hands out, her fire lighting the walls like they had been doused with gasoline. And he had to watch when she twirled on him, her body dissolving into silvery mist and sweeping towards the door, dipping underneath and disappearing outside.

He’d complain about it later. At that moment, he had to get all their shit and get out.

All of that was Junkrat’s fault. If he hadn’t taken the fucking hostage in the first place.

The pay was not fucking good enough.


End file.
